


Oops, Castiel Found the Handcuffs

by allthebeautifulthings9828



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bondage and Discipline, Dom!Cas, Dom/sub, Dominant Castiel, Dominant/Top Castiel, Explicit Sexual Content, Fallen Castiel, Handcuffs, Human Castiel, Impala Sex, M/M, Masturbation, POV Dean Winchester, Sex in the Impala, Spanking, Sub Dean, Sub!Dean, Submissive/Bottom Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 16:17:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthebeautifulthings9828/pseuds/allthebeautifulthings9828
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean teaches Castiel about all of the weapons and restraints in the trunk of the Impala, since he's a new human interested in being a hunter. When Castiel finds the handcuffs, he has a few ideas about what to do with them. And Dean resists just to make it more fun for himself, the rebellious adrenalin junkie that he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oops, Castiel Found the Handcuffs

Dean showed Castiel how each weapon and restraint tool worked in the Impala's trunk. When Castiel saw old handcuffs buried in the pile, he yanked them out, and a wicked smile made Dean a bit nervous. But he didn't dread it. The nerves rooted themselves in anticipation, he realized, as they exchanged a silent glance. Was it going to be easy or difficult this time?

"Turn around," Castiel said.

"Cas, c'mon."

"Turn around or I'll turn you around myself, Dean." Though he smirked, his deep blue eyes turned darker.

The idea spoke to Dean's body and he fell still, relishing in that sensation caught between rebellion, submission, and imagining what could happen. He stared Castiel down from the corner of his eye and folded his arms squarely over his chest. It was a challenge and Castiel knew it by the way he tilted his head. They had been through this dance many times before, and Dean instantly got hard whenever he reminisced on how well Castiel delivered orders. He'd never tell anyone about it, of course, but there was a certain freedom in the trust required between them to play such games.

"Have it your way then," the former angel replied to the silent challenge as he slammed the trunk shut.

Castiel grabbed Dean's upper arm, jerked him around, and shoved him down on the trunk of the Impala just the way a cop would have wrestled him for resisting arrest. The cold metal pressed into Dean's chest and face as he felt stern hands tugging his wrists behind his back. A little smirk and a glint of excitement brightened his eyes. And Castiel sure as hell made certain he shoves his pelvis tightly against Dean's ass, bent over the Impala, as each handcuff loop snap and lock around his wrists.

"Are you going to behave for me, Dean?"

"Yes," he replied.

The pressure of Castiel's pelvis backed away and Dean instantly missed the physical contact. He leaned back, searching, but Castiel shoved him into the trunk by a fistful of his shirt.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, my love." Dean's eyes squeezed shut. He hated that part. Well, the macho part of his brain hated it, but their rules were clear and designed to push him into expressing himself. He could only verbally express it when Castiel had control, when he felt that safety. _Sir_ was never good enough. _Sir_ meant nothing. _My love_ meant everything.

"Good boy." Reward followed. Castiel's hips ground into Dean's ass.

Anyone could have driven by that old country road and witnessed the game they played. Once it began, though, they always had to see it through.

Castiel yanked him upright by the chain connecting his handcuffs. "Get in," he ordered as he came around front to open the back door.

"My love--" Dean struggled to say it. It'd get easier the more Castiel broke down his defenses though. "--where'd you learn cuffs and takedowns?"

"I learned a lot from the pizza man, but he wasn't the only one I watched. Now get in and stop talking unless I speak to you first."

When the hell was Castiel watching porn, for hell's sake? Dean's mind spun as he was fed into the back of the Impala, hands painfully crammed behind his body and the seat. The metal cutting into his wrists grounded him and kept him focused on everything Castiel required of him. Oh, yes, there would be requirements. There always were. And Dean's jeans constricted tighter just thinking about it.

Hopefully, nobody drove by that country road for a while.

Meticulously, Castiel undressed and passed his folded clothes into the front seat. With Dean, though, there was nothing meticulous or calm about the way he ripped his shirt and yanked his jeans. Dean felt like a toy just there for Castiel's amusement. He bit his lower lip, but being so manhandled and unable to fight back sent blood rushing to his cock.

A faint smile, smug with satisfaction tugged Castiel's plump mouth. His fingertips traced a defined line from the root of Dean's cock to the head as if appraising its length. Dean's hips jutted forward of their own accord and his head threw back against the seat. But just like that, the slightest physical contact disappeared. Everything about him ached for touch and Castiel certainly knew it.

"I don't know if you deserve relief today, Dean," said the former angel as he leaned back against the door, facing him. "What do you think?"

"I deserve what you want to give me, my love," he replied in a deep tone.

"Hmm. We'll see."

The hardest part about those games was remaining perfectly still and not looking directly at Castiel. They had their rules. Submission often entailed keeping his gaze downcast, but Dean sat in the backseat of his Impala, naked with his wrists handcuffed behind his back.

Castiel sat beside him, just as naked, with his back against the door. Lazily, his loose hand slid up over the strength of his cock and back down again. The bastard knew Dean's favorite thing to do was watch his former angel corrupt himself that way, but he wasn't allowed to look directly at him once the game started. He only felt the heat radiating off Castiel's body and he hung onto the peripheral glimpse of a slow stroking hand over a thickly agitated cock. Dean unconsciously licked his lips, knowing the last remaining flames of defiance in him were being put out with each stroke.

That was the purpose, after all. Breaking him down until the true nature of his soul exposed itself without a pile of sarcasm and booze on it.

He felt Castiel watching him trying not to stare right back. The other hand drifted down his abdomen and teased his balls with a rough grip. A breathy, deep sound of pleasure rolled through Castiel's chest, hitting Dean with just the right timbre, making him look at that debauched sight against his will.

The second those green eyes lifted to his body, Castiel stopped and his hands pulled away from his steady stroking. He sat there casually, legs splayed open in the confines of the backseat, his leaking cock curving up toward his abdomen.

Dean's own cock twitched painfully in desperate need of friction.

"Did I say you could look at me?" asked Castiel with the hint of a threat.

"I can't help it," replied Dean raggedly. "You're driving me fucking nuts."

An eyebrow arched high on Castiel's forehead. "Watch your tone, Dean." He considered the situation and then shook his head. "No, you've been far too disobedient all day. Turn over on your knees."

Dean knew what was coming. He obeyed, scooting around in the backseat with his face toward his window and his ass toward Castiel, hands bound by metal cuffs at his lower back. The position felt entirely too vulnerable and exposed, especially restricted by handcuffs. He knew there was no way out of the car like that. All he could do was brace for whatever came, completely at Castiel's mercy. Still, he tried to make himself as small as possible, knowing people driving by could see him if they happened to look that way.

"Stop it." A swift crack of Castiel's hand across Dean's ass drove the warning into his gut.

Dean growled against the burn of his flesh. As much as it hurt, his cock twitched with interest again, remembering that familiar sensation. He bent backwards just slightly and internally pleaded to be touched. Any touch. Anything might have induced an orgasm then.

The other hand branded the other side of Dean's ass, shoving out a sound from his lungs caught between pain and pleasure. Crack after crack filled the Impala until Dean's ass burned red and raw, yet he relished in being touched so consistently. It hurt, yes, but  _fuck_ , he was being broken down and he liked it.  _No one_ on Earth could have done that to him  _except_ that man he trusted above all others.

"Why am I punishing you, Dean?"

 _Crack_.

Dean only groaned.

"Dean."  _Crack_. "Why am I punishing you?"  _Crack_. "Answer me."

"I..." He licked his lips. Focus. "I'm disobedient, my love."

The correct answer earned Dean a light touch of Castiel's cock drifting over his stinging flesh. "Mh-hmm, how so?"

"I didn't trust you enough to let you cuff me. I was rude. I tried to watch you jerk off without permission." Through his dizzying need for release, Dean surprised himself with how fast he answered the question without unintelligible babble.

"Good boy." Castiel's voice softened and he bent over Dean, peppering his shoulders with kisses. "Such a good boy now."

A long breath of relief passed through Dean and he drank in each light kiss as if he'd been starved for affection his whole life. He probably had been, really, but he didn't want to think about it. Perfect compliance and lack of barriers brought such a clarity to Dean's mind that he sometimes thought he actually saw Castiel's new human soul balled up within his chest.

One of Castiel's hands rewarded Dean's compliance by rubbing the burning handprints across his ass. "That's my beautiful Dean," the former angel mumbled, breath shaking.

Dean slowly came down from the punishment, perfectly willing and perfectly in love. Most importantly, he could say it without restriction. And he did say it the second he realized Castiel's ragged breathing came as he resumed stroking his cock. He kept a hand on Dean's ass but the jerking of his other wrist turned quick and erratic. Although Dean didn't dare look back, he imagined Castiel fucking into his own fist, licking his lips, eyes tightly shut with a building orgasm at the base of his spine. No, Dean wouldn't turn around. He knew what Castiel wanted as long shots of come spurt across Dean's back, tangled up with hoarse shouts of agonizing pleasure.

He branded Dean. Marked him.  _You're mine_.

The former angel staggered over Dean as he tried to catch his breath. Hands roamed his skin, spreading come over his back, yet Dean didn't care at the moment.

"You're being so good. Roll over," Castiel murmured in his ear.

Immediately, Dean obeyed, although twisting around into a different position wasn't easy with his hands cuffed behind his back and Castiel shifting above him. He leaned against the door but the Impala's upholstery scraped his tender skin. It would probably hurt for a few days and remind him of how important the mutual roads of trust were in order to lead to each other.

Castiel's lips claimed his and their kiss turned so slow and so deep that it communicated without words. He'd disobeyed, been corrected, and now he deserved love and care, burning it into his mind of exactly why he trusted Castiel to dominate him in those games.

A blind hand felt its way down Dean's abdomen and gripped his cock so tenderly that it lurched in Castiel's hand as if begging for a firmer touch. Dean hissed against his mouth with the jolt of pleasure pulsing through him. Those soft, plump lips surrounded by the earliest stage of a coarse beard left wet kisses along Dean's jaw and drifted along his collarbone, over his chest muscles. He desperately wanted to comb his calloused hands through Castiel's hair but the restraint of handcuffs fought him. Dean's thoughts blurred together in a mess, fusing together as pure emotion, while Castiel simultaneously worked him over in his hand and by his tongue.

"Cas," he moaned, "you know I love you."

Swollen, wet lips let go of Dean's nipple and blue eyes peered at him. "I wait every day to hear you say that, Dean," he whispered. "I love you too."

Rewards for his broken down honesty came then as Castiel maneuvered lower. The deep pink tongue flicked over the head of Dean's cock, making his pelvis stutter toward that mouth, yet Castiel grabbed his hip bones and pinned him down. He drew out the moment as he sank his mouth down over the length of Dean's cock, forcing him to feel every millimeter from his toes to his scalp.

A languid rhythm ensued, Castiel's head slowly bobbing over his work. Dean never tore his eyes away. He bit his lip and panted with the wet waves of aching torture, but he knew no one else would ever have that view of his former angel.

Castiel's mouth quickened, steadily, until Dean couldn't contain his moans. Blue eyes flashed upward and watched him through dark lashes as he pulled Dean's length past the back of his throat. He was so fucking good at that, a natural skill that never had to be taught, and Dean's moans turned into the growling aggression of trying to hold back from the cliff. But Castiel's work grew into a relentless assault of every weakness as a hand let go of his hip and pressed hard on the spot between his balls and his ass.

" _Shit_ , Cas, I'm gonna--" Dean sputtered through clenched teeth, but he didn't get to finish before a blast ricocheted through his body.

He meant to warn Castiel but the violence of a pent-up orgasm ripped apart his nerves and spilled into that waiting mouth. Dean's rapid moans hit a higher pitch than he'd ever heard come out of himself, but he couldn't contain it as the back of his head slammed the door frame. His spine curled, his toes curled, and for a split-second, he thought he might break apart the handcuffs.

Patiently, even lovingly, Castiel milked out the last waves of it until Dean stilled. Heart pounding and bleary-eyed, he struggled to even his breathing as Castiel waited in silence. He draped over Dean's body and folded his arms over his chest. The way he watched him resembled studying a classical painting, and after a while, Dean's brain began to function again. His dominance faded, returning to two equals basking in the afterglow of their love games.

Castiel's thumb caressed Dean's cheekbone. Eventually, he spoke. "Dean, do you still love me even when we're not doing this?"

"You know I do," he replied. "I've died for you and I would again."

"Good point." A faint smile pulled at Castiel's tired lips.

"Hey, Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?"

His eyes popped open. "Where are the keys to the cuffs?"

"Oh..."


End file.
